


Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me

by MercuryMapleKey



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: But not in the way you're thinking, Coercion, Domesticity, M/M, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2041599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryMapleKey/pseuds/MercuryMapleKey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blurr needs a fix, but Shockwave's too busy to give it to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me

**Author's Note:**

> Iiiiiiiiiiii. This is my first time writing something like this. Eheheh.

It was an unfortunate fact that some things just couldn’t be forced. Unfortunate but true. And some differences, often the ones that came to be the most grating, were far too set in their origins. Blurr shifted his thighs together and twitched impatiently. He couldn’t take much more of this.

               It wasn’t fair. It was hardly unprecedented either; there had been more than a few challenges they’d had to face together. From frame size to faction both Blurr and Shockwave had managed to be extreme enough from one another that they were continuously toeing the line of incompatibility. Not always a bad thing, Shockwave’s servos were big enough to dwarf his entire upper body, and Blurr couldn’t help but to run his own servos down his sides imagining one massive claw in their place. They were always sharp, and that he couldn’t mimic, but it was there in his memory banks regardless. Teasing phantom sensations, he wanted the _real_ ones on him.

Faction had been the biggest problem – well, the second biggest, but Blurr didn’t prefer to dwell on old facts if he could help it – but they had made it work. In the end they always did. And that wasn’t to imply that it hadn’t taken a momentous amount of effort to overthrow such issues, because it _had_ , but… it had been worth it in the end.

Blurr fell back on the berth exasperated, and already warming as protocols activated themselves _again._ Worth it for those thick treaded shoulders, exaggerated hips that swayed even in his slouch, and that dimmed light that would filter through his optic when Blurr begged under him just right. The things he’d do to see it now, to have it over him right now. Squirming, Blurr wriggled higher up the padded berth, kicking his pedes to rest on the edge and slipping a servo from his side to between the blue bands on his thighs. Slow, purposeful, Shockwave made a point of teasing after all, and he tried hold himself steady.

The problem lay in their frametypes and the base coding therein, and it _was_ a problem. Different frames had been suited for different purposes, from their alt-modes to their capabilities regarding genetic dispersion and racing frames had apparently been suited for interface as often as they could possibly get it. This had never been a problem in Iacon. There the unspoken don’t ask don’t tell policy regarding casual encounters and plenitude of bars both shady and otherwise had provided even the most libidinous bot with their much needed fix. It was just the way things worked there. Everyone understood the need to relieve basal protocols, but no one wanted to mention it. Blurr hadn’t been a stranger to that scene, but could hardly even entertain the thought of going back to it now.

It didn’t stop him from wanting that release though. He hadn’t gotten it in _solar cycles_ , and he was certain he couldn’t last under these conditions much longer.

Shockwave was of course aware of his little ones needy nature, but he was also very busy and as tempting as Blurr made himself the fact remained that he just didn’t need it as often. It was a problem. Blurr squeezed his servo, and clamped his legs together, and cursed whichever project _his_ tank was working on this time; it was a really big problem.

Blurr was ready and wanting as always, and spread out on the berth waiting for it, but where was Shockwave? Buried under datapads, and reports, and orders only he could fulfill as usual. He was _always_ working. Even as the pang of jealousy surged through Blurr’s circuitry he was digging his fingers into seams on his plating. It wasn’t fair. Everything Shockwave put his time into he did so with a certain degree of intensity. In an argument it could be frightening, in the berth it went straight to his valve, and when it came to his work… it was annoying. It was in that intensity Blurr got ignored more often than not. Nothing frustrated him faster and though Blurr’s systems were begging for it, the speedster stopped just shy of opening his interface panel; he wasn’t spending another nanoklik by himself. Besides, Shockwave could use a break from his work.

Blurr pulled his back off the berth and his servo away from the inner seam on his thighs. Mind made up he set his pedes on the floor and quickly found his way to Shockwave’s study.

The door was open. He would have loved to take that as a good sign, but unfortunately it meant very little. Shockwave was at his desk, hunched over his console in a way almost comical given the size of his shoulders. He looked like he hadn’t moved so much as an inch since Blurr had last seen him, half glaring over his blatant dismissal as he’d stomped his way into the kitchen. Briefly the ex-agent considered strolling in and playing it casual, but that would have been both an insult to Shockwave’s intellect and Blurr’s former career as an agent so instead he went straight for the source, zipping in to duck under an arm and nuzzle against black plating.

“Hi Shockwave, how is your work going? Well by the looks of it, I’ve hardly seen you all joor, and if that’s any indication you must be getting a lot done, enough so that wouldn’t you say it’s a good time for a break about now? We should take a break.” Blurr looked up bright as a solar flare and circled little servos around Shockwave’s dark frame. The Decepticon hadn’t so much as looked away from the console screen, diligent claws still plucking away at his work, but one couldn’t just assume that that was a bad sign.

“Blurr.” A pause, and Blurr traced a digit slowly along one of the white stripes on Shockwave’s midsection. “This is very important.”

That _was_ a bad sign. “Well I’m just looking out for you, sir.” Blurr pressed himself as flush against Shockwave as he could and wished those long claws were on him – in him – rather than clicking away at the console. They hadn’t even slowed their pace. “When was the last time you refueled? It has to have been a while ago, Shockwave that’s important.”

A cool vent long and slow tickled against Blurr’s helm fin and for a moment he thought he’d gotten him. It wasn’t so.

“Blurr, what did I tell you last time?”

Last time? Last time he’d rushed in needy and wanting and hotter than anything and was told repeatedly that he had to wait because this work was time sensitive. Last time had been two days ago. Expression turned dour, Blurr climbed into Shockwave’s lap stubbornly.

“I never said anything about that, you’re the one who brought it up, I only wanted to ensure that you were properly fueled for your latest _obsession_.” He talked about the work like he was talking about another lover, and the words rolled off Blurr’s glossa as hotly as he felt. Even as he feigned ignorance Blurr couldn’t help but squirm in Shockwave’s lap.

Another pause. The steady click of his claws stopped for a moment, considering. “I refueled two point eight megacycles ago. I’m fine.” He neglected to look down at Blurr, fidgety and needing, as he returned his attention to his vid screen and the speedster whined a long frustrated note.

He was done playing games.

“But Shockwave it’s been so long! And two—two solar cycles ago you said—you _promised_ Shockwave, and I can’t wait that long!” Wriggling higher in Shockwave’s lap, he was half begging at this point, but only cared so long as it got the job done. It wasn’t fair to be forced to wait and he’d _been_ patient. Now he was wedging a pede between Shockwave’s thighs to straddle one of them, tires in his pedes spinning lazy circles against either side.

His efforts didn’t go unnoticed, but they were hardly appreciated, and Shockwave tensed, entire powerful frame going taught under Blurr’s warm chassis. It was true that tanks and warbuilds had a slower drive than that of the racers, but that by no means meant they couldn’t persuaded.

“No.”

“But Shockwave—“

“For the fourth time Blurr; this work is very important, until the job is done I will not tolerate any distractions.” He meant it, Blurr could hear it in his voice, and it hurt to be written off as a distraction, but even more so to be undermined by some Decepticon scheme in the works.

Blurr resolved to try harder. “Well excuse me, but I’m very important too I’ll have you know.” Gone was the squirming and the petting and the playful touch of his EM field, in its place left only a scowl.

Fortunately that was enough for Shockwave to spare him a glance, servos never ceasing their work on endless lists of reports and candidates even as he regarded his little speedster smoothly. Shockwave’s voice never held much in emotion, but here annoyance bled through to a gentler tone.

“You are not a pressing concern, little one. I’ll tend to you as soon as I am able.” He made it promising, but Blurr’s frown only deepened.

Not good enough. That could be a _decacycle_ from now. Blurr groaned, heating up again. “I can’t wait that long Shockwave!” It had been awhile. Normally Blurr could cope, he’d learned to with the extended missions required of his job, but Blurr was no longer an intelligence officer, and had no mission with which to fill his mind. “I’ll be quick Shockwave, I’m always quick, just—just—just give me a claw, that’s all I need, I—“

“If you wish to remain here, you’d better keep quiet.” The conversation was over.

He hated being ignored. Blurr glared long and hard at Shockwave, but received no acknowledgement for his indignation. As with most of their arguments it was over as rapidly as it started, with the inevitable decision that Shockwave was done talking about it. Blurr shifted irritably in his lap, turning to look at the console screen, the back wall, the insignia on Shockwave’s chestplate. He settled for sulking with his face buried in dark plating, grumbling incoherently. Shockwave was warm but Blurr was hot, and for a long time the only sounds in the room was the methodical click of Shockwave’s work and the rapid puff of Blurr’s ventilations. Periodically the noise would shift as Shockwave moved a servo to soothe along Blurr’s helm-fin or shoulderplates, but what was normally a pleasant relaxing gesture for him was nothing but frustrating instead. It was cruel to touch him so innocently when he was running so hot, but then Shockwave had never made a secret his propensity towards sadism. Blurr was no longer ashamed to admit that he liked it.

He decided to try pushing his luck.

Innocent was how he started; it was the only way to do it, testing the waters with twists and shuffles that were common in his inherent twitchiness. No reaction; this time Blurr took it as a good sign. Slowly sporadic jerks of his legs and abdomen gradually morphed into a steady, shallow frotting against Shockwave’s thigh, the thick, hard treads between his legs. Any relief was good relief and Blurr sighed into it, retracting his interface panel with a quiet noise. The relief was enough to pull a whine from him, pushing himself onto Shockwave faster in effort to obtain more of that perfect pressure.

“Blurr, stop that.” Shockwave scolded him as he would a pet and Blurr only groaned high and reedy in response, removing the covers to his spike and valve next. He couldn’t stop. Not now, not after he’d waited for _so long_.

“But I need it.” Messy and desperate, Blurr braced his servos against Shockwave’s hips, leaning flush forward to kiss sloppily on dark plating. Hips never ceasing their roll he passed his external node over the clip where one solid tread met the next over and over, sending electric impulses across his sensor net.

“What you need is self-control.”

From this angle Blurr had much desired contact on both his valve and his spike as he rutted; building lubricant drooled warm and thick from him, sending him slipping faster and smoother in the mess he was making. He wanted it so bad. Whining Blurr lifted his helm from Shockwave’s steadily warming plating to protest: “You like it when I lose control, you said so.”

He did. However, there was both a time and a place for such behaviour and each was where and when Shockwave wanted. Blurr was lost against him. Hot and eager, he drove himself to madness. To be sure it was a sight, but Shockwave, resolute in his priorities, was hardly foolish enough to take a glimpse. His optic remained trained on the screen before him even as Blurr licked along transformation seams. Controlled. The scent of lubricant as it pushed out of Blurr’s valve was palpable, the feel of it seeking between the parts in his treads to the malleable metals below depraved. Shockwave’s cooling fans shuddered to life unmistakable in their dull roar and Blurr revved his engine twice sharply in return.

It was beautiful, but it did not excuse the work that had to be done. Removing a single servo from his work Shockwave placed it back on Blurr’s shoulder and pushed the little blue bot unceremoniously to the floor.

“Hey!” Blurr landed hard on his aft, optics rapidly shifting from glaring to half lidded as he twisted against the shock of the cold floor. “I got you Shockwave! You want me, I know you do I can hear it, so why did you push me?” Even as he reamed Shockwave out he was rocking against the floor again, thin spike bobbing prettily in the air as he sought for traction. Against the smooth flat of the floor there was none, and Blurr squashed a pede up against himself, digging the bottom edge of his boot between his thighs.

Shockwave was determined to ignore it. “One does not get rewarded for misbehaving, Blurr.”

Blurr whined again, it tapered into a groan as he gave in to the frustration, and he bounced against his own pede in a series of rough, hungry movements before giving up and pulling a servo from the floor to wrap around his spike instead. He needed it, he needed it now. Panting, he worked his servo up the rippling ridges of his spike, spreading his own leaking transfluid over the head and teasing hidden nodes with deft fingertips. He’d lose it if he kept up at this pace, and a glance above brought him near to devastation as he realized Shockwave still hadn’t turned from the console. The discovery brought an offended squawk from his vocaliser strangled with both his exasperation and provocation, but even over the heaving of his own vents and the wavering bloom of his vision he could see it: Shockwave was running tense. In a thick slavering line Blurr’s valve leaked over the inner curve of his wheel to pool at the floor and Shockwave’s antenna twitched once, forward and back. Even through his shudders, Blurr smiled.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand Shockwave’s desire for peace while he worked, nor was it difficult for him to comprehend the need for an uninterrupted work cycle – even cycles if the job was long enough. No, it was quite the opposite, Blurr understood; Blurr had lived it. On the field and under covalencey you did not stop until the job was done. There were no breaks or opportunities to relax, in Cybertron Intel Blurr’s job had been an important one, and it was expected that he take it seriously. But that was just the case; Blurr wasn’t an intelligence officer any longer. Blurr worked for Shockwave now, doing what the spy wanted only when he wanted it. He needn’t have worked at all, a fact Shockwave made abundantly clear, and likely wouldn’t have if the thought of so much spare time and so little purpose hadn’t been enough to make his spark shrink. Even still the speedster found himself looking for idle ways to pass the megacycles by more often than not. And Shockwave, his night, his day, his reason for everything, he was still so busy.

Blurr needed him.

“Shockwave!” With an arch of his back he was falling the rest of the way to the cold floor. It was dirty and debased, and Blurr angled his hips up sharply to better meet the warmth of his own servo.

Hedonistic moans, the curve of his spinal struts pushing his spark towards the open room, Blurr kicked a leg up and ran his other servo hotly down the cut of his valve. White digits came away slicked wet and Blurr smeared them over his external node, gasping into the floor.

He couldn’t keep it together. He wasn’t above begging. “Shockwave, Shockwave, please, I need you— can’t you see it’s not enough? I want it, I want you, I can’t stop thinking about you, _please_ sir!”

It was a show now and Blurr knew it, laying sprawled out on display at Shockwave’s pede. Bringing both servos down now he parted himself shamelessly, hips ever angled up in presentation even through his shallow thrusts. He wanted Shockwave to see, he wanted Shockwave to see everything and talked through it all. Oh, how he talked and begged and _burned_ for him.

Offlining his optics Blurr slipped two greedy digits between the folds of his poor understuffed valve. He told Shockwave everything; about how much he loved his spike, how much he loved his claws, how big and hard they were compared to his own little fingers. They just weren’t enough, and the words tumbled from his vocaliser, fast, dirty, and laced high and tinny with his own thirst. If Shockwave looked he would see.  

It was hot, it was fast, it was shallow and messy and desperate for fulfillment. Blurr worked his fingers in and out of himself at a sharp pace, aft bouncing off the floor as his hips jerked upwards in half frenzied movements. His vents hitched and stuttered as another wave passed through him. Caught between teasing the node in his spike or the one at the front of his valve he tried to service them both; squeezing, pinching, and mixing lubricant with the transfluid dribbling lazily down him. Sparks of hot pleasure cracked across his frame and danced around his wet fingers; Blurr couldn’t stop calling Shockwave’s name. Couldn’t stop as his engine purred and his spark hitched, he could have gotten off right there in front of him, spent from fragging himself like a desperate animal at his master’s pedes. The thought sent Blurr keening again, valve rippling around his little fingers as he threw his helm back.

Through the mist of his own frenetic energy Blurr came to realise how still it had gotten. Despite his wanton sobs, and revving engines, despite the whirr and hum of ventilation systems pushing at their maximum, and the constant flurry of Blurr’s needy servos the entire room was at a standstill.

Blurr onlined his optics and looked up with helm cocked raggedly to one side to find Shockwave; stopped dead and staring directly at him. He couldn’t have stopped the smirk that spread across white faceplates if he’d wanted to. Shockwave’s optic darkened imperceptibly and Blurr pulled one sticky servo away from himself, holding it out towards the Decepticon. He splayed his fingers and watched the lubricant string and strand between them.

“Shockwave see? They’re just not big enough for me, I can’t do it.”

Oh he’d done it all right. Shockwave twitched again, a fraction of a flicker this time, undecipherable by most but Blurr knew everything about him.

That was his only warning.

As if fired from a cannon Shockwave’s arm shot forward, seizing Blurr by his slender waist and forcing him against the nearest wall. Blurr squawked again, out of surprise more than pain, and clutched to the claw closest to his chestplate that had pinned him. Sharp and broad and rooted in a heavy servo his white claws dug into Blurr’s mesh sides and scratched against his windshield. He pressed into them, and kicked his pedes dangling far above the ground. The tank was still staring at him, with the same intensity in which he did everything else. Blurr quivered.

“Is that so?” He hadn’t moved but for his helm and his hand, and now Shockwave rose to a towering stand, dwarfing the room although it had been made to his height specifications. Shockwave carried with him a sense of presence, dark and forboding; Blurr craved it.

“And so you desire mine.” In a purposeful movement he swept his claw over Blurr’s chestplate and the speedster followed after it nodding quick and sloppy.

“Oh, yes Shockwave, yes; you know I want it, I do, I do— please!” His valve twitched empty, spiraling down on nothing at the thought of those thick claws inside him, but with one sevo pinned at his side and the other trapped above his waist Blurr could do nothing but depend on Shockwave to relieve him.

It was not a fact Shockwave was unaware of. Slowly he advanced on his little speedster, squirming and warm and wanton in his grasp; “What make you think you deserve any part of me?” Deliberate, controlled, Shockwave stepped past the stain Blurr had left on the floor with optic unclear to his intent; he wouldn’t make this easy. “You’ve been nothing but disobedient. What did I tell you to do?”

Blurr was not answering that question. Instead he wriggled forward, ducking his helm to suck on sharp claws as if he could draw energon from them.

“Nngh—Shockwave!” Hot and deprived he fought to fit more of it into his mouth, sucking and licking against smooth metal. He needed it, he needed something, he didn’t want Shockwave to tease him anymore. Impatient and unable to vocalise it Blurr kicked a leg out and sent more fluid splattering obscenely to the floor. It leaked from him like an open wound. He _needed_ it so badly.

Shockwave inclined his helm, amused by the sight of Blurr writhing between him and the wall on which he was suck, and far further aroused than he had been in some time.

“You’re absolutely depraved aren’t you?”

Blurr hardly heard the question, nodding frantically, wild bucking up into the hot air between them. He was lost to the sensations he’d brought upon his own frame, the push of transfluid, the heat of friction, the charge of pressure and pleasure racking through him; as adrenaline inducing as any race. Once activated interface protocols in racing frames were very hard to disable again before they ran to their completion; Blurr truly did ‘need’ something.

However Shockwave had needed time to his work. “What have you done to deserve this?” He pressed the foremost claw of his second servo against the rubbery lips of Blurr’s valve and waited for a proper answer. Blurr jerked forward with a wail.

“I’ll—I’ll—I’ll—I’ll be good! I’ll be good Shockwave, I’ll leave you alone, I’ll let you work just _please_! Please!” He begged so prettily, gasping and squeaking around his glossa.

“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it little one?”

Smooth, slick, and practiced, Shockwave sunk his claw into Blurr regardless, spreading the speedsters tiny thighs around the bulk of his servo. Blurr gasped, wet and sudden, connected to the digit he’d been sucking on by a long strand of his own oral fluid before he pushed back into Shockwave with a long moan.

“Yes, yes, yes, Shockwave, Shockwave please—“

Finally stuck, Blurr scrambled his pedes against the wall, wild for purchase and panting as if anything but Shockwave could help to cool him down again, as if he could convince him to move faster, harder – but as always it was Shockwave in control.

The pace was gentle, slow, just enough to tease and torture Blurr’s optics into becoming frenzied with a lust unfulfilled. He couldn’t move flattened against the wall as he was, and it wasn’t until gasps turned into sobs that Shockwave began to force his claw in deep and jolting. Had he not _been_ in the middle of an important job he would have kept his pet here indefinitely walking the tightrope line of overload, but Blurr had done enough teasing for the both of them, and it was never ‘just a quick one’ when it came to the speedster.

With a steady pace inside him Blurr wailed, bouncing further up the wall at every thrust. Calipers closed down on the digit inside him, attempting to hold it steady as Shockwave slicked in and out, but finding purchase on nothing. Steam wafted from him as his overheated systems strained to compensate, and his vision flickered with charge.

“What are you waiting for?” Shockwave’s voice was steady, but his optic was hungry; Blurr grounded himself in them both and never wanted to be looked at another way. Then another claw was pressed to him, easily spanning the distance from his spike to his external node and stroking against them both. Blurr choked back a scream; Shockwave’s tone was the only cool thing in the room. “Come for me Blurr.”

He did; transfluid spurting out in a silver stream, coating his stomach and the underside of the servo that pinned him while his valve jolted in pleasure and electric popping energy. Calipers clamped down on Shockwave’s claw as if they could take something from it and Blurr spasmed stiffly, denta clenched and keening.

He pulsed. From the length of his spike to the nodes in his valve, he was throbbing in time with his spark. But he wasn’t done. Whining through the static in his vocaliser and the steam in the air Blurr squirmed on Shockwave’s retreating servo. He cooed after it, staring up with bleary optics.

“No, no don’t stop yet Shockwave, please don’t, I’m not—I need more still.”

Shockwave wouldn’t stop staring at him now, and moved closer still until he was hunched over his speedster. “I believe you said you only needed a claw.” He spoke low, engine rumbling in tune with his words and Shockwave swept his antenna over white faceplates. Tasting him. “I gave you two.”

Blurr thought his spark would seize. “I was wrong, I was wrong, I need more—I can’t help it Shockwave, I love you.” He kissed everything he could reach.

When Shockwave pulled away again it was with _that_ light filtering through his optic; a dark red Blurr had come to associate with greed and possession. The affection Blurr had come to learn was his alone. Wordlessly he was pulled away from the wall and Blurr gasped, squirming anew as Shockwave dropped him front first on his desk.

Typically they would have moved to the berthroom long before now, but typically Blurr wasn’t given the chance to carry on quite so much as he had either. This was a new development, and it excited him. Blurr shifted himself further back, dropping his legs over the side of the desk and giving himself fully. He had promised, and he would behave himself this time. A servo pressed to his back and Blurr stopped.

“Right there.”

“Shockwave…”

Pushing his aft into the air, Blurr craned his neck to look past his shoulderplate behind him. Shockwave was everywhere. A familiar weight, thick and heavy, pressed against his thin blue and black thigh and Blurr broke a moan. He wanted it.

To prevent his inevitable wriggling he was held down, and as Shockwave spread his thin thighs apart Blurr’s servos scrambled across the desk; he needed something to hold on to. He needed _something_.

Shockwave pushed in slowly, controlled and careful even as he groaned softly under the tight squeeze of Blurr’s valve. They teetered at the edge of incompatibility. The first time Shockwave had been too much for him to take, the second time Blurr had nearly damaged himself trying. By now they knew how to make it work, and Blurr, held fast as he was, tried not to force himself back onto Shockwave’s spike. It stretched him slowly; pressing past every node, displacing oozing lubricant between them, and filling him with such a pressure that Blurr could only whine, and gasp, and sob.

With gentle strokes caresses against the back of his neck Shockwave shushed him, more out of affection than any want for silence and Blurr bit down on the blue of his wrist guard. Then he was in. For a moment Blurr could neither see, nor speak, nor think. So overcome by the notion of being full, truly full both inside and out that he couldn’t think to process. Then the moment broke and with it Blurr’s control. All at once he was squirming, and kicking, and writhing around Shockwave who held him steady only a moment longer before working himself out and back in again.

Shockwave set his pace, and Blurr could only take it, propelled further into the desk with every turn of pistoning hips. He gnashed his denta on the curve of his wrist guard, babbling and stuttering Shockwave’s name like a mantra at every push, and falling apart to the white hot sparks of electricity that surged through his circuitry. He had never wanted anything else. Shockwave loomed above him, encompassing around him at every side. He murmured to Blurr, soft wicked words that the Autobot had come to love and that masked the sounds of his own pleasure. Another push, a sharp angle of the hips and Blurr was taking him deeper still, popping static screams into his armour and still asking for more.

Overload hit fast. Hot and messy, Blurr thrashed and jittered on the desk, lost in the throes of it with nowhere to go. In impulsive waves his valve spasmed and clamped around Shockwave’s spike, riding it out as above him the tank’s engines rumbled.

Blurr was a mess. Overworked internal nodes sparked with energy and sent maddening pulses of pleasure shooting up his struts. With optics glazed over he stared ahead at the abandoned console screen and couldn’t contain the wave of triumph and satisfaction that bloomed from his core. Sticky and sated, Blurr yelped as, with another thrust, Shockwave overloaded inside him. He had never been big enough to hold all the transfluid Shockwave had to give. The silver substance oozed and stuck between them and Blurr shuddered, vents pushing out hot air as his frame finally began to cool itself. Static hung in the air, heavy and humid; the office had been painted in a layer of steam.

He rebooted his optics and found that Shockwave was looking at him again. Lurched overhead and braced heavily on both arms. Blurr smiled large and exhausted past his chewed wrist-guard and the drool that had collected below his chin.

“Hi Shockwave. I feel better now, much better.”

A puff of warm air tickled his helm as Shockwave watched him. Blurr couldn’t tell if it was annoyed or amused.

“You are perfectly spoiled.”

Both then. Blurr whined as Shockwave pulled out of him, but it didn’t stop the grin on his face from spreading wider. “I know that, don’t blame me for it though, it’s your fault and you know it!”

“So it is.” Both spent for their efforts, Shockwave passed a claw over Blurr’s helm petting him lightly until the speedster started fidgeting on his own again. The office was a mess. As Shockwave pulled Blurr off the desk and into his arms he only left behind more of it, and it became increasingly obvious it would have to be cleaned as well; another job he didn’t have the time for.

With another huff vented above him Blurr was carried in the direction of the washracks. He curled into Shockwave’s warm chassis already half-guilty for it.

“I can’t help it Shockwave.” As if that would bring back all the cycles he’d demanded. It was genetics; but Blurr still wouldn’t have changed it if he could. “I don’t mean to be more trouble than I’m worth.”

“That would be quite the feat, dear.”

Blurr pressed his faceplating into Shockwave’s side at the compliment, but kept talking regardless. “I can clean it all up, you don’t need to do that, and furthermore,” he bounced idly, “furthermore you should know I plan to do much better next time.”

Reaching their destination Shockwave eyed Blurr coolly, cradling the little bot in one servo as he entered the sequence to transform the showering system from the wall with the other. “Better for your own interests, I assume.”

A warm spray of solvent drowned out the volume to Blurr’s laughter. “I never said that, sir.”

Insatiable.


End file.
